


Summer Strings

by Reesa



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Dubious Consent, F/M, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-16
Updated: 2015-01-16
Packaged: 2018-03-07 20:08:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3181526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reesa/pseuds/Reesa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mainly Frostiron. Lady!Loki.<br/>A dose of Avengers crack-turned-angst, in which Loki is trapped in female form and Tony pines for her.</p><p>Please read notes for disclaimer and warning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer Strings

There are interesting stories in Norse mythology. Thor shares them every now and then during team dinners, and during one of them, while most of the Avengers were sitting pretty and playing nice at a Greek restaurant, Thor talks about one of his hunting adventures. It’s during this boring story that Tony’s peripherals spot a dull gold in the background, to his left. His eyes follow the figure. It’s a tall, beautiful woman in a gold and black dress, whose skin is snow-white pale, lips cherry red and hair raven black. He couldn’t study the colour of her eyes, but he’s sure they’re dazzling.

 

Someone clears their throat, bringing Tony’s attention, though startled, back to his teammates.

 

“Busy ogling over there, Stark?” Clint barks, grinning teasingly.

 

“Shut up,” Tony retorts, looking outwardly unimpressed.

 

Ever the peacemaker, Steve sighs deeply and tries to calm them both. Natasha is still looking confused at Thor’s open-mouthed chewing, unsure if she should be amused or disgusted. Thor, still talking loudly about his hunt, has an empty seat beside him. They’re silently expecting Bruce to show up, but they were informed he had a conference or some sort to attend. Pepper didn’t have time to discuss it.

 

“Oh, yes, remembering those days of youth does make my heart grow fond.” Thor is laughing wholeheartedly, swaying his beer bottle, spilling drops on Natasha’s fiery red hair. She thinks nothing of it, and joins him in his cheer politely by clinking her wineglass against his bottle. Clint downs the rest of his beer in one chug, eyes crinkling as he watches Thor and Natasha. Steve is smiling encouragingly, eating his food quietly. Tony is still dumbstruck. He chances a glimpse at the woman in gold and black. Her gorgeous figure stands gracefully by the bar, and Tony wonders if she’ll be sitting there, alone and maybe waiting. And maybe he should excuse himself from his friends for a second and buy her a drink.

 

“Man of Iron, my kind friend, I have a question.” Thor’s booming voice breaks Tony’s daze. He looks at Thor with an overreaction of fake curiosity. “Hit me, big guy,” he jokes.

 

“Will you be finishing that delectable meat?” He gestures with a kind smile. Clint is snorting out his beer from chuckling. Steve’s smile grows, and Natasha decides she’s amused by Thor’s odd antics. “Be my guest, bud.” Tony is smirking against himself, pushing the twenty ounce steak Thor’s way. “I got my salad anyway,” Tony adds, and Clint is challenging the table with bets on how quickly the Norse god can clear the plate.

 

But before Thor can take a bite, his eyes widen at whatever he sees in the area a few feet from Tony. Well, Tony’s estimating. So he turns, and his face may or may not be turning red at the closer view of the woman he may or may not have considered stalking, until she’d succumb to his will, after this meal.

 

He was right. Her eyes are an unbelievable shade of green. She speaks with a sultry voice, arms across her chest, facing Thor, “I was waiting for you. You did not approach me.”

 

“I beg for your forgiveness, brother. I was not aware you would be in your female form when I invited you for dinner.”

 

“Wait, what,” Tony deadpans.

 

Clint is laughing his ass off.

 

*

 

The restaurant is only a few blocks away from the headquarters, so they all walk home. Steve is walking in front of everyone, having a three-way talk with a burping and bloated Clint, and Natasha, who’s suggesting ice cream, or something— _anything_ —because she’s still hungry. Tony trails after the three.

 

He’s carrying Loki’s order for her. _Pasta of the day, who woulda thunk?_ Tony is gently swinging the paper bag that holds the Styrofoam-cased fettuccine.

 

Loki didn’t want to be rude and make everyone wait for her to finish eating. She spent a few minutes trying to convince Thor it would be uncomfortable.

 

Behind Tony, Thor is babbling apologies to somehow-incredibly-seductive-but-probably-not-meaning-to Loki, who looks unfazed by her brother’s attempts.

 

Tony is _definitely_ _not_ thinking about that gold and black dress on the floor of his master bedroom. “Bad thoughts, bad thoughts,” he mutters in whispers, almost like a prayer.

 

*

 

It’s been a long time—Tony hasn’t kept track, maybe Thor has—since Loki acted out villainous deeds. When Loki did harass the city, they were ridiculously nonthreatening and actually quite hilarious. Thor was turned into a variety of household pets during the past year, and last April Fools’, Clint’s arrows turned into free-ranged chickens when they tried to apprehend Loki, after chasing him away from people in the park whose voices sounded like they just sucked the helium out of balloons. Last Halloween, Loki sent his clones in Avengers costumes at the doorstep of their headquarters.

 

 

“Trick or treat.”

 

Tony remembers Natasha scoffing at the prank. “Those heels aren’t practical.”

 

“Heels can be practical?” Tony learns that Natasha was trying to be funny. He generously rated the joke a 6 out of 10.

 

 

Now that Tony thinks about it. Fury may have deemed Loki an ex-villain and more currently an immature prankster. Thor, as well, may have told them that Loki is trying to be friendly with Midgardians. Tony never pays attention in debriefing.

 

It was a nice break from waking up to alarms, and leaving boring meetings to suit up and make bad guys go to the corner and think about what they’ve done.

 

 

This summer is a nice surprise.

 

For some reason, most of the most dubious dudes just decided to relax and surf it up somewhere or maybe catch up on their stories. _Who knows?_ Tony wasn’t going to complain.

 

*

 

After some gelato and Clint’s massive order of baked goods, the Avengers, bringing along a pleasantly compliant Loki, prepared to end their days respectively.

 

It was like clockwork.

 

Steve goes to the sauna, basks in the steam until he sees fit.

 

Clint organizes his stock of weapons. Rumour has it he sleeps with his bow and arrow.

 

Natasha takes up a bubbly Jacuzzi, finishing her light novel.

 

Tony updates himself with whatever Pep sends him on his tablet, and occasionally plays Angry Birds.

 

Thor is doing god-knows-what wherever. Sometimes he’s off to Asgard, running princely errands, and once, to Tony’s amazement, Thor was looking blatantly at Google Images of bikini-clad women. He was grimacing, commenting, “Such foul women act with such indecency in your world, Man of Iron.” To which Tony teased, nudging the grimacing thunder god, “Yeah, all right, buddy. I won’t tattle on you.”

 

But instead of his usual pre-bedtime routine, Tony is standing against the wall, with the Mission Impossible’s theme song playing in his head. He wants to hum it out loud pretty badly.

 

His ear picks up on Thor’s voice from the living room. “Brother, please, do not be cross with me for my foolish actions. I did not recognize you for you are in your—“

 

“Female form, yes, yes, Thor. Spare me the grueling repetition,” Loki sounds like she wants to bite or gnarl her teeth. “I have heard you.”

 

Tony imagines her crossing her arms under her breasts, carrying them up, almost pushing them out of her low gold-rimmed neckline. _Bad thoughts, bad thoughts!_

“Brother—“ Thor tries, but there is a silent interruption, and Tony hears footsteps coming towards him. Thor’s voice turns inquisitive, calling after Loki.

 

“Good evening, Mr. Stark. Are you perhaps eavesdropping?” Loki’s feminine voice rings in Tony’s ear like a cool, passing breeze.

 

Tony gathers himself intelligently, “Um, hi.”

 

He gets a curious and devious look from the unnervingly stunning woman beside him. Tony flattens his shirt, coughing for no reason. He tries not to look into her Medusa-like eyes.

 

 _Oh, come on, Stark. Get it together. She won’t turn you to stone. Well, she can._ _I mean, you_ are _getting hard._

He shakes his thoughts away.

 

“Look, my house, my rules. Also, more specifically, my living room. Public and shared space.” He thumbs at the room where a confused Thor eyes both of them with knotted brows.

 

Loki grins, mischief is written on her delicate-looking face. “Am I to understand that I am behaving that of an ill-mannered guest, Mr. Stark? Are you stripping me of the rights to my privacy while I am under your roof?” She almost sounds innocent.

 

Tony fights against a playful smirk, and instead masks it with an authoritative glare. Standing his ground stubbornly, he crosses his arms and attempts to intimidate her by poking her at the chest, where her dangerously low neckline dips. “Listen here, missy, my house, my reign.”

 

“Oh, do go on, Stark.” Loki is already walking away, making a hasty gesture.

 

_Oh, merciful God, that dress…_

 

Her lean, curvy silhouette sways like a shadow as she walks towards Thor, stopping when there was safe space between them. “It was…” There’s a moment of consideration before Loki continues, “a pleasant evening nonetheless, Thor. In the future, do not disappoint me. Though, I very much doubt you are capable of that.”

 

Thor beams at Loki’s words, though spiteful. “You jest, brother. I will be sure to see you soon.”

 

Loki grunts, more high-pitched than Tony’s used to, as she grabs her take-out dinner.

 

She turns her face to give Tony a side-stare. She smiles slowly. “Thank you for paying, Stark.”

 

 _No problem, beautiful_ , Tony thinks when he’s thrilled for no fucking reason, like an idiot whom cupid-Clint just shot a pink heart-shaped tipped arrow through. “No problem, beautiful,” he blurts it out. _Fuck_.

 

Loki is giving him a shit-eating grin before she vanishes out of thin air.

 

“Great, Thor! Just great!” Tony is storming around in the living room before he flops himself clumsily on the leather couch. “You didn’t even warn a dude before you bring along your sexy magician girl-brother?” His cheeks are burning from embarrassment.

 

Thor is looking at him with that confused look. The blond’s eyes are roaming around, like he’s searching for an answer. “Have I wronged you this evening, Anthony? Was my brother’s presence so disconcerting?” Thor is genuinely concerned.

 

Tony collects himself, sighing in defeat. He admits to himself that he is acting a bit childish. “Sorry, big guy. I’m just—well— _look_. I guess I just haven’t been that—I don’t know— _impressed—_ by a girl in a long time.”

 

_Or I really mean, I haven’t gotten laid because of this stupid Avengers crap and my CEO slave chores. And I really, really wanna do the horizontal Charleston with the girl version of your brother._

 

Thor is stretching his lips into a goofy grin. “I do not contest against your judgment. Loki shape shifts quite remarkably. He has taken the forms of many interesting characters.”

 

Tony, at Thor’s pleasant mood, can’t help a joke escape his lips, “Do you think you could give a desperate guy her number?” He flutters his eyelashes. The blond guffaws in good humour.

 

*

 

Several days pass. A fight with Hydra ends abruptly Friday night. Tony can almost confess that he misses the action, but a lazy weekend is much more tempting.

 

On Saturday morning, Bruce is back. When Tony goes through the kitchen to grouchily grab a cup of Joe, Natasha is curiously discussing the conference with a mild-mannered Bruce. Always good news to have a calm Bruce.

 

Clint is poking through the refrigerator, whining about his missing pastries. Thor is suspiciously absent and is suspect numero uno in Clint’s list of The Asshole Who Ate All My Food. Steve is without a doubt doing a peaceful morning sketch.

 

Pepper sprints into the chatty kitchen. Tony robotically responds to her demands. He thinks he may have agreed to let her use the corporate credit card to buy a gown for the business party next month. “Thanks, Tony. By the way, hi to everyone. Hope the weekend will be a nice break. Also, nice to see you had a good time in Spain, Bruce.” _What, Bruce was in Spain? I wasn’t invited?_ “I’ll e-vite you guys the party next month. Formal. Totally formal.” Her finger wags at them. She possessively hugs her tablet, and hurriedly pecks Tony on the cheek before she leaves as quickly as she came. Tony thinks he might’ve daydreamed that.

 

“Party next month?” Bruce asks, facing Tony. _Guess it wasn’t a daydream._

 

Tony’s fervently shaking his head in response. “Oh, no, no, no, don’t expect me to be awake when coffee hasn’t kicked into my bloodstream yet,” he says in defense. Clint snorts, and Natasha pokes at her pancakes, trying to hold a giggle. Bruce rolls his eyes, amused.

 

“And when is that exactly?”

 

“When my blood type is Italian Roast.”

 

It’s when Steve is joining them, handing over his sketch of a beautiful sunrise to an interested Bruce, that still-female Loki pops out of nowhere, making Bruce turn an unhealthy-looking green, bursting out of his dress shirt and khakis. When Hulk roars a painful threat away from his space, Loki is nonchalantly skimming through the basket of fruits and bites into an apple.

 

“Good morning, mighty Avengers. May I be informed of where Thor can be found?”

 

Tony’s not caffeinated enough to trust himself to respond—Pep’s earlier questionnaire aside—especially since he wants to take this opportunity to gawk at Loki’s new outfit. A really loose v-neck shirt, and incredibly tight, skinny jeans. _That choice of clothes on that kind of body should be illegal._

 

Natasha’s too busy, trying to calm Hulk down. Clint gives Loki a good body check before shrugging. “Your guess is as good as mine.” Steve is silently crying at his ripped apart sketch, laying his head in mourning on the breakfast table.

 

*

 

Thor is sound asleep, evidence of crusts around his snoring lips, with the opened box of pastries on his bed beside him. Clint is raging and stomping around behind Loki who is poking Thor uncharacteristically sheepishly.

 

“Thor, I require your assistance immediately. Wake up, you gluttonous oaf.” She’s frowning deeply when she shoves him around with sudden, unexpected strength until he startles awake. His eyes are deer-in-headlights wide, making a grab for his Mjolnir.

 

“Oh, it is only you, brother,” he comments, sitting up, avoiding Clint’s ominous leer. “Why do you continue to be in this form?” His eyebrows tighten in unease.

 

Loki sighs heavily, and her shoulders drop as she sits at the edge of his bed. Tony isn’t watching her every move. _What, don’t be silly_.

 

“That is precisely why I am here to seek for your aid, Thor. Do you recall, in my earlier practices of magic, and in my unguided mischief, I shaped myself into Sif to taunt her?”

 

Thor laughs. It echoes in his room. Tony thinks he hasn’t had enough coffee to not be annoyed by it. “Surely I do, brother! You had turned her crimson!”

 

Loki nods curtly. “Yes. Unfortunately, I was kept in that form.”

 

“Ah, that is correct. It lasted for a few moons, did it not? And in turn, she mocked you greatly.”

 

Loki glowers. “That does not matter.” She dismisses it with a wave of a hand, turning away from Thor. Tony and Clint have no idea why they’re still watching. Later, Natasha drops hints that they’ve fallen under the spell of Loki’s female form. To which Tony defends, after being thoroughly fueled by caffeine, that she’s irresistibly smoking hot, and only a mad man would be able to turn her down. He realizes in time that it's the other way around.

 

“What troubles you, brother?”

 

“I fear that it has occurred once more.”

 

“Oh, sweet heavens, you’re stuck as a chick,” Tony cuts to the chase when his brain translates their Asgardian talk into modern English. The archer beside him has eyebrows shooting far into his hairline.

 

Loki pushes an arm towards them. An invisible force closes the door on the two men’s faces. “Cold bitch,” Tony muttered. Clint nods, pouting.

 

*

 

Tony was right. Loki is stuck as a woman. He can’t help but be glad about this. _Oh, yes, a challenge._ On this very rare lazy weekend, he and Clint have acquiesced into a competition. Conveniently, Loki’s been hanging around Thor for whatever help the Mjolnir-wielding god can do for the sorceress. Tony can’t fathom it. As much as he loves the blond broad, he’s still a broad. It didn’t seem like he knew much about magic.

 

*

 

A week later, Loki is successfully ignoring both Tony and Clint’s eager attempts at getting her attention.

 

Natasha becomes friends with her. She won’t tell them what drew them together.

 

Steve gains Loki’s respect by being a chivalrous gentleman. Clint considers Cap’s approach. Tony accuses this of cheating, but Steve doesn’t agree with their competition.

 

Bruce and Loki, when the latter feels defeated after an exhausting day, have discussions on philosophy. They get along fairly well on that basis. _I don’t know why a god of mischief with a brutal history of murder would even have ideas on morality,_ Tony muses when he’s humming Mission Impossible in his head again, rocking his head to it. No, he’s not eavesdropping. It’s _his_ place. He’s just more comfortable against the wall is all.

 

*

 

Another week passes.

 

Loki is becoming more ladylike. It’s inexplicable.

 

The Midsummer Party is approaching. Tony gets an idea.

 

With a bouquet of abundant cherry red roses in his hand, sporting a gorgeous tux, Tony Stark—man of the year _and_ number 12 in sexiest man alive—is standing at the door of the guest room, where Loki’s impermissibly residing. Not that Tony minds. Not that Tony’s been collecting hidden camera videos and filed it under “potential fap vids” in his computer. _How preposterous would that idea be? Ha. Ha ha._

 

 _Well, here goes nothing._ “Knock knock.”

 

“Go away.” Even Loki’s voice was starting to sound a lot more natural.

 

“But I come bearing gifts, m’lady!”

 

“Must I reiterate myself? Leave!”

 

Tony’s smug smirk is wiped off at the rejection. _A man can only be taken down so many times._ He wobbles the doorknob. “Jarvis, unlock it—“

 

“Oh, no, you don’t!”

 

“What the great fuck!” Clink tackles him, until they’re rolling on each other and hit the end of the hallway. “Damn it, Katniss, this isn’t hunger games!” He throws the smashed bouquet to the side.

 

Clint sneers. “Dude, this,” he gestures at Tony’s form, “Totally unfair, man. Does it look like I can afford to win her charms with expensive shit?”

 

“Hey,” Tony puts his hands up defensively, “we didn’t set up rules.”

 

“Bro,” Clint doesn’t look humoured, “Nat told me _she’s_ got serious problems. Don’t tease her.”

 

Tony indignantly grunts, getting up, and pulling Clint along. “I’m just wondering if she wants to join us next week.”

 

Clint’s eyes darken, warning him. “Stark, you’re cool and all, but you gotta stop dicking around with this.” He shrugs, and then whispers, covering the side of his mouth with his hand, “It’s like it’s not even Loki anymore. It’s actually some chick. Some other persona come to life and Loki’s shoved in the background, watching the whole thing unravel into chaos.”

 

Tony feigns interest, clapping his hands. “Good show, Barton. Good show.”

 

“You’re a fucking ass, Stark.”

 

The billionaire impersonates a Western movie character, swinging his arm. “Grab me by the talons, Hawkeye, whadda deduction.”

 

Loki’s voice echoes down the hall. “Stark, what are you doing there in the dark? Have you gone deaf? I prayed the All-Father to make you mute—“ When her head peaks out of the doorway, her cheeks flush red when her eyes meet Clint’s. Tony is flabbergasted, speechless, ego-bruised.

 

He stutters dramatically, glancing between them. “I am appalled!” he teases, with a hand on his chest. “What’s been going on between you two?”

 

Loki’s lips are pursed. She ignores Tony. She looks grim. “I am under the impression that Natasha has shared confidential information about me.” It isn’t a question, but it dangles, waiting for confirmation.

 

“Um,” Clint gingerly ruffles the back of his hair. “I overheard?”

 

The door slams loudly. Both men cringe.

 

*

 

“Honestly, guys, honestly, what the great fuck,” Tony cusses, palms open in question. The party’s only been a half-hour in, and he’s already getting sick of it. World record.

 

Pepper is shaking her head, smirking. “Aw, come on, Tony. I think they make a cute couple.”

 

“No, seriously, seriously, Pep, what the gigantic fuck.”

 

Apparently, Steve courteously asked Loki out for the party. He assures there’s no romantic interest. She was a guest in the house. She seemed fond of him. It was only polite to do so. Tony accuses him of cheating _again_.

 

*

 

In a group meeting, sans Loki, Natasha confesses her worries about the troubled shape shifter. “She told me that this has happened before. When she shifted into Sif,” she nods at Thor, who nods back, “she was stuck like her for months. She got traumatized from forming into a girl, so she stopped.”

 

“Most reasonable,” commented Thor.

 

“Not that I would want her to stop,” Tony adds, earning glares from the room.

 

Heaving an impatient sigh, Natasha continues, “But it didn’t stop her from trying it now and then. She did tell me though that she only shape shifted into her female form for a few hours, when she’d test it. When she shape shifted into who she is now, before she saw us for that dinner—“

 

Tony interrupts, reminiscing, “Gold-rimmed neckline, black dress with a train that made her legs look like they’d never end.”

 

“Dude, seriously.” Clint is rubbing the bridge of his nose.

 

“Natasha speaks truthfully,” Thor barges in with his resounding, deep voice, “Days before, my brother was already in his female form, having troubles returning to his normal self. This would also explain why, in my surprise, he appeared to dinner as a beautifully decorated maiden.”

 

The room is quiet for a moment. Steve earnestly asks, “How can we help her, Thor?”

 

“Hey! Hey, wait!” Tony is interrupting again. It doesn’t surprise any of them. “Has anyone asked _me_ about what I think about all this? I _like_ Loki as a babe, instead of him rampaging around town, making us clean after his mess.”

 

Bruce nods and speaks in agreement.

 

Steve looks torn.

 

Natasha has her usual dead eyes but frowns.

 

Clint is still trying to avenge his arrows that turned into runaway hens.

 

Thor shares, “When Loki was unchanged as Sif, we looked for answers from our mother, and eventually, All-Father, after months of hiding on my brother’s part. Sadly, my brother will not turn to our father. His pride is hindering this.”

 

“So, that’s all we need to do? Ask the All-Father?”

 

“It is not such an easy task. My father may adore my brother as his son, but they have great tension between them.”

 

“I’ll say—“

 

“Shut up, Stark.”

 

“Cool your jets, Clint. Can it, Tony.”

 

“ _Buuut_ , _Caaap_.”

 

*

 

So they agree that Thor should go to Asgard, and build enough favour in the All-Father’s eyes for Loki until he can ask for his help without Loki’s involvement.

 

In the meantime, Steve and Bruce are helping a third-world country piece itself together after an earthquake, leaving the rest of the Avengers home in case of emergencies.

 

Clint and Tony continue their competition in boredom.

 

Natasha is cockblocking them. Effectively, but she can’t be around every waking moment.

 

Clint does other things. Tony waits. He thinks it’s worth it.

 

*

 

Loki is moping her pretty face around the living room. She’s watching chick flicks on the flat screen. An empty Kleenex box is on the armrest. Pepper joins her at some point, but gets sad when she has to leave. She embraces Loki goodbye after Tony hands her signed paperwork.

 

“Hey, you,” Tony tries for small talk. Loki is still sulking. _Damn, she looks helpless. Why is this turning me on? Bad Tony._ “How are you feeling?”

 

“Not so well, as you surely may see, lest you are also a failure in such a task.”

 

Tony learns from Thor to ignore Loki’s bitchiness. “Hey, hey,” he says softly, sitting beside her curled form on the couch. “I’m here if you wanna open up. It’s not easy being a girl.”

 

Loki shoots him a death glare. “What are your intentions, Stark? Do you wish to bed me?”

 

“What!” Tony is at the loss of words momentarily but keeps his cool. “No, no, come on, we’re all trying to help you.”

 

“Where is Natasha?”

 

“I dunno. Out?”

 

“And Barton?”

 

“I dunno. Polishing his arrows?”

 

“I do not enjoy your implications.”

 

Tony drapes his arm on Loki’s dainty shoulders. She shivers at the touch. “You know,” he smirks, leaning into her until the tip of his nose grazes the back of her ear. She lets out a shaky sigh. “We _are_ alone.”

 

“Do not do this, Stark. I am vulnerable.”

 

 _Yes._ “I won’t take advantage. I mean you’re a consenting adult; _I’m_ a really attractive consenting adult. What can go wrong?”

 

Loki’s chin lowers and her watery green eyes stare into Tony’s glazed pair. “I am not myself. I feel like I am losing grasp of my mind.”

 

He cups her chin, raising her lips towards his. “Let me distract you from it.”

 

And then they kiss. Tony moans into it, releasing all of the stored desire he’s had for the past month and something. His mind wanders. He wants to do everything he can while she’s this willing.

 

She makes a pained sound at the back of her throat, and her lips vibrate against his. _Fuck_.

 

She mumbles against the kiss, “Stark, _please_.” He doesn’t exactly know what she’s pleading for, but he wants to believe it’s for release.

 

“Tell me what you want,” he coaxes. His fingers wander south, feeling the warmth between her thighs. He gasps. _How long has it been?_ He wants to tell her, _I’ve never wanted anyone so badly._

 

“I don’t know,” she utters before moaning into his touch. He presses his palm against her warmth. He wants to kiss her some more. “I—I can’t.”

 

His other hand holds her blushing cheek. He’s shocked at the sensation of wetness. Tears. _She’s crying_. He looks at her questioningly. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Don’t—Do not take advantage of me, Stark!” she cries out, pushing him away weakly. She covers her face with her forearm. Her lips look swollen.

 

“No, no, I didn’t mean to. Oh, fuck, don’t cry.”

 

He’s experienced this before. He’s had obsessed, stalkerish girls cry over him in his bed, before, during and after sex. But this is different. He feels guilty. It hurts.

 

“Don’t cry, please.” _Thor will kill me. Oh, God, if he doesn’t, Nat will. Worse, Momma Cap is gonna ground me._

 

A vague look passes Loki as she slowly pushes her hips unto Tony’s hand. He waits for her next move but he doesn’t have to wait for long. She smashes her lips against his, desperately, turning her mouth in different angles quickly. He can taste her tears, salty.

 

“You,” he half-heartedly says in between clashing teeth and exploring tongue, “don’t have to do this.”

 

“I think... I want to.”

 

*

 

Tony wakes up with the sun seeping through his eyelids. He cracks open his eyes when he hears Loki groan beside him.

 

He leans on his resting elbows, swallowing as he turns to face a disappointed Natasha and a proud-looking Clint, who tries to give him a discrete thumbs-up. Natasha punches Clint at his side. “Ow!”

 

Loki stirs underneath the thin sheets, looking peaceful in her sleep. Her knees were bent to fit in the couch.

 

“I can’t believe you’d do this, Tony!” Natasha whispers harshly.

 

Tony goes through a list of things to say. He picks one. “Please, _please_ don’t tell Thor.”

 

*

 

They have more sex.

 

It’s heated, raw and wild. He discovers lady Loki’s animal side. She likes it doggy-style, on all fours, with her hair pulled as rough as possible. She likes straddling him, riding him to blinding release.

 

Jarvis has been collecting videos under the file “best sex ever” and it lives up to its name.

 

Without magic, which Loki intimately admits to him one night, she cannot do some of the interesting things she usually enjoys during sex. She tells him that she used to summon ropes, toys and oil with the snap of her fingers. And now, she doesn't feel like herself. Without her magic, she feels useless.

 

He comforts her. He doesn’t know why he does, but he does it anyway.

 

*

 

It’s when Thor arrives with good news that Tony realizes something.

 

“Fellow warriors!” he announces, gathering attention in the morning. “I bear glad news!”

 

“Not enough caffeine,” chirps Tony somewhere in the kitchen.

 

Steve is talking to Bruce about war poetry. Clint is shoving pastries down his throat. Natasha is making breakfast smoothies. Loki is still in bed, sprawled in Tony’s king-sized bed, which reminds him...

 

“Hurry up, Hammer Time. I got something to do.”

 

“More like some _one_ to do.” Clint wriggles his brows suggestively. Tony gives him a look. _What the fuck, man? Thor is here. Stop. Thor. Is. Here._

 

Luckily, Thor doesn’t have very good deductive skills. “The All-Father has agreed, from much of my mother’s persuasion, to repair my brother’s mishap.”

 

_Wait, what, what, no._

Natasha’s smile can be heard in her voice. Her back faces them while she pours her drink into a tall glass. “Good.”

 

“Well, that should relieve her,” Steve notes.

 

Clint snorts, shooting a glance at Tony, who wants the coffee to stir him awake so he can _stop this_.

 

Bruce chimes in, “So what happens?”

 

Thor’s mood dampens. “We must convince Loki to return to Asgard in order for my father to fix this spell.”

 

 _Oh, good, there’s still hope_.

 

*

 

Against Tony’s pleas, Loki plans to go back to Asgard with Thor.

 

“How long will you be gone? When will you come back?” _To me_.

 

Loki’s lashes graze her cheeks when she closes her eyes in deep thought. “Bid her farewell.”

 

 _No._ He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t want to believe he’s attached.

 

“How long?” he says anyway, holding onto her soft hands. Her skin is smooth and warm. It welcomes him, entices him to _touch, have, want_.

 

Loki’s eyes are sparkling green. Her lips part, and he anticipates words, but she shakes her head sideways slightly. She breaks from his grip. “This was so idiotic of us, Stark.” The words crackle like magic, almost waking him up. Almost.

 

“It was still fun, though,” he tries to brighten the mood. Why does his chest feel heavy? This isn’t like him. He’s not supposed to _fall_ for anyone. Affection is real. Caring is real. Loving is real. But falling for someone isn’t. That’s make-believe.

 

Loki tiredly smiles. “Let us not speak of this when I am back. In fact, I mean not to see you again.”

 

 _Ow, ow, my bleeding heart_. “Right,” is all he can say, when his chest aches too heavily and his hands go numb.

 

She goes when Thor calls for her. Her curvy silhouette sways like a shadow haunting the walls. She’s just a ghost now.

 

*

 

In a matter of days, Loki is catching up on lost time. He dusts the air with pink glitter, probably inspired by the chick flick-a-thon. He turns Thor’s hair into a dodger blue, but the older brother carries his new hair proudly bragging about Loki’s numerous talents and good tastes.

 

A mysterious package is delivered at the headquarters for Natasha. After SHIELD inspection—those nosy bastards—Natasha opens her gift. It explodes confetti with a gazebo noise. She spits out ripped shiny pieces of paper. After the mess, she takes out a book. She doesn’t share much but that she’s starting a collection.

 

Loki changes the Avengers sign into different insults on different days. Mondays, it’s Nuisances. Tuesday, it’s Assholes. Wednesday, it’s Losers. He slacks, alternating from there.

 

Summer passes, and for whatever reason, the villains come roaring back.

 

*

 

On a chilly day in autumn when crime decided to pack a punch on the Avengers, after Tony’s about to pass out from exhaustion, his bed shifts from placed weight. “Good evening, Mr. Stark,” an all-too-familiar sultry voice rings in his ears. He grins against himself.

 

“Jarvis, hey, pal, you awake?”

 

_“I am very sorry, sir. I did not detect her.”_

 

“S’all right.” Tony’s trying to sit up, but he gets pushed down by a stern yet gentle hand. He grabs onto it instinctively, still pressed against his chest.

 

He has so many questions. He has so much to say. But he decides against all of them.

 

His arc reactor is glowing against soft, smooth and pale skin. He wants Loki to feel it, female in permanence or temporarily.

 

“Oh, Stark, I fear you may have a problem with your heart,” observes Loki mockingly. A devious smile stretches her rosy pink lips as she eyes his glowing arc reactor. Her dark raven hair cascades in curls. She’s wearing his favourite gold and black dress.

 

“You’re right,” he says, moving her closer to him by the nape of her neck. His other hand caresses the curve of her spine. “It’s taken.”

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers. That would be cool, though.
> 
> Warning: you will most likely, if not entirely be struck by some offensive events; do note that this is a fiction of a fiction, and I use these (may or may not be offensive) events in order to transition the story


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